


Picture This - The Joey Version

by melanie1982



Category: NKOTB - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You sneak into Joey's empty cabin on the cruise. All you want is a memento of your idol - but when Joey returns unexpectedly, you discover you aren't the only voyeur on board..</p><p>masturbation<br/>kissing<br/>sex</p><p>I don't know the characters in real life. This story is fiction, and I make no money from this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture This - The Joey Version

You only meant to stay for a minute. The party was in full swing, sprawling over much of the boat, but here in the curiously-unguarded hallway, it sounded far away. It was nice to take a breather, and you weren't going to do any real harm. You try the door, finding it unlocked, and upon entering, the scent of the man you'd been lusting over for so long assault your senses. His energy is everywhere, and you drink it in, wishing the moment could last. "What can I take that won't be missed?,"

you ask yourself. The hamper is open, his aroma stronger there; maybe a towel, or a t-shirt.. As you rifle through, you hear the soft scuff of footsteps, followed by the click of the door. You dive into the closet, peering out in terror through the wooden slats. Joey saunters in, sweat-drenched and on a natural high from the wild festivities. "Please don't let him change clothes!," you silently pray, hoping he won't stay long. He strips to the waist, tossing his shirt into the hamper you were just digging through and sending you a fresh wave of eau de Joe. He doesn't move to replace the shirt; instead, he sits at his laptop, plugging a memory stick into the port.

Your eyes grow wide as you see what Joey sees: footage of fans, dancing, drinking and letting loose. Joey is visible in the background, which means HE can't be the cameraman - but clearly he was aware that this was being taped. Did he set someone up to secretly record fans? A male voice, not his, asks several of the women for their Twitter names, and your stomach drops. The music is familiar, and it hits you: this is footage from last night's party, at which you were more than a little buzzed. Dim recollections of a handsome young crew member talking to you surface in a rush, and you feel your face burning. Sure enough, as the impromptu 'q and a' sessions roll on, your face comes into view. As if that isn't bad enough, the camera s-l-o-w-l-y pans down the length of your body, capturing every hill and valley while Mr Nice Guy keeps you talking. As you walk away and pull yourself onto a nearby platform to dance, the voice mumbles: "That one? Got it. Her name is -" You hear your name, and blood roars in your ears. You watch in horror as your screen self shakes it like a two-bit hoochie, playfully bumping and grinding on your friends, whipping your hair, licking your lips.. The worst is yet to come.

As the laser lights start up behind you, your clothes become see-through. Your hard nipples are shamelessly broadcasting your excitement; patches of sweat stand out on various parts of your body, and the outline of your thong - the one you wore for yourself, thinking nobody would ever see it - is plain as day. The footage goes on and on; Joey is fiddling with his belt buckle, easing himself out of his drawers as he watches you. You hear your name, live and close, sounding low and wet on his lips. Then you hear another sound, the drag of skin on skin as Joey begins to work himself.

At first, you're in shock, but that gives way to anger. How DARE he objectify you this way? How DARE he - and then you stop. Didn't you giggle over the 'Donnie toga' video footage, getting an eyeful of something you were never meant to see? Haven't you right-click-saved pic after pic of the guys - mostly Joey - in tight or barely-there outfits? Don't you pray at every show for him to strip, or have a wardrobe malfunction? Maybe, you think, we're as bad as each other. Well, if he gets to play, so do I, you tell yourself. Your nipples are as hard as they were in the video as you stroke them with practiced fingers, biting your lip to keep quiet. Any noise, and he'll find you here, and that could go very badly. Joey's free hand adjusts the video so he can watch you again from the beginning, and the closet becomes very warm. Of all the girls on the footage, he's picked you, and that gives you a burst of feminine pride. Even with too much sun and sangria, he saw something in you that appealed to him, and that's something to feel good about. 

You can hear him talking dirty to your screen self, soft utterances of 'Do you like that?' and 'Yeah, do that again, baby.' He's telling 'you' that you're so naughty, turning him on like this, getting him hard, making him stroke it, and soon your control snaps. Your hand takes on a life of its own, finding your wet heat and strumming to a tune as old as time. The shock of your finger's first touch on your clit makes your head fling back, your mouth forming a silent 'o' as you gush clear fluid into your hand. Will he find a puddle in his closet? Will your scent reach him and tell him you're here?

Joey continues to work it, his breath hitching in his throat as he loses himself in the fantasy of you. You've never been jealous of a hand before, but you are now, wishing it was your body gripping him tight, making him crazy. Your fingers work faster in response, wanting to finish when he does, wanting to share that with him, even if nobody ever knows about it - Joey included. You're so wet, you can't get the friction you need; Joey, too, seems to need something to help him along. You don't hear him move from the chair, or slide open the closet door, muttering 'lube' as he tries to recall where he's stashed it.. but you hear the awful silence as he stares down at you.

Will he scream? Will he have you locked up, monitored by security until you dock? The silence is unbearable. He can see it all over your face, the fear, but also the wanting, the hunger; your hand hasn't moved from its position locked between your wet thighs. "Well well well, what have we here? A stowaway." He doesn't move to cover himself, letting you look at him, his beautiful face, eyes half-lidded with passion, his toned body, his hard cock pointing at you like an accusing finger. You see a bead of pre-cum there, menacing and tempting. "I see we both needed something tonight. How fortunate that we found each other." He must recognize you; how could he not? He knows he's busted, and he isn't ashamed. That boldness sends a thrill through your body, making you wetter still. He finds the lube on the shelf, reaching up over you, his body inches from your face, close enough to get a lick if your dared. You watch as Joey pours a generous dose onto himself, stains be damned. What will the cleaners think? First the closet floor, and now.. He caresses it into his skin, then turns, walking back to the chair. He sits, looking at you, waiting.

Waiting?

"Don't make me sing it," he teases. Then, after a pause, he croons the lyric: "If you don't come soon I'ma have to help myself.." You giggle, moving forward, still unsure. He grabs your wrists, and you freeze. "You've been a very naughty girl. I like naughty girls. Let's see how.. deep your bad streak runs." He's searching your face with his eyes, looking for an answer.

"It's deep," you confess, sliding yourself onto his lap. 

"You understand what I want? You're okay with this?" He's whispering, trying not to break the mood, but he has to know that you consent.

"I want it all," you purr greedily, amazed at your boldness. He kisses you, and time stops. Over his shoulder, the music is still playing; you're still dancing, living it up, enjoying the moment.

"So sexy," he murmurs before sucking on your lower lip. "I hoped I'd find you somehow, get you alone, but I didn't think.." His hands follow the path his eyes had taken before, undressing you in the process. Topless isn't so bad, but when he removes your bra, you wonder what he'll think. "They're so soft," he enthuses, cradling them in his hands, taking possession of them. You're both stripped to the waist now, but wearing far too many clothes. "I think we should get these out of the way," he whispers, his finger running underneath the side of your thong.

"You too," you murmur, glancing at his lap. Fighting gravity, he balances you as he wriggles out of his pants, then helps you down with yours. The kissing continues, his lips and tongue teasing you and speaking of others skills as yet untested. "Are you ready?"

You whimper, his hand beneath you working his cock into the space you need him to fill. His face is covered in a sheen of sweat, and you can taste the salt of his skin with every kiss. "Joey," you sigh, feeling him move beneath you, hips raising to meet hips. He sighs your name, and you melt, your core growing hotter by the second. The chair tilts and swivels, adjusting the angle, and he keeps pace with you, driving you onward to the release you so desperately need. You think you hear footsteps outside the door, but you don't care; let them hear, let them walk in - you know he won't stop, and neither will you.

"Cum for me. Cum with me," he pleads, his thumb pushing between you where your bodies are joined, stroking you like he's done it a hundred times before, with the perfect speed and pressure. As you cum, he kisses you, capturing your moan and swallowing it down, his own gasps mingling with it there. As your body stills, you hear the chair creak; suddenly you're both on the floor, still joined, wide-eyed before bursting into laughter. You survived sex with Joe Mac; the chair, however, did not.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Never better."

He's looking at you like he's still hungry, and you can't get over it. You fumble for something to say. "I, uh, I won't tell anyone about this. Ever."

He smiles. "I know." You wonder just how much he knows about you; he's a mystery, and that's part of why he's always been your favorite. "But you're gonna need to say something to someone about where you're going and what you're doing for the rest of the cruise."

His confidence is borderline cocky, but he pulls it off. "The rest of the cruise?"

He kisses you again. "I was hoping you'd spend some more time with me. We still have a few days. Is that cool?"

You think of your friends, feeling a twinge of guilt - but, if they truly love you, they'll want you to be happy, even if you can't tell them WHY you're so happy. "Yeah. I could think of something."

"Great - later. For right now, I think we've gotten dirty enough to take a shower, don't you? I mean, we're already dressed for it."

"Hmm, you do have a point.."

Rock the boat, indeed.


End file.
